


Hangdog

by Chromat1cs



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AM I HONESTLY STARTING THE ROCK CLIMBING TAG, Alternate Universe - After College/University, Alternate Universe - America, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Attraction, F/M, First Meetings, Flirting, M/M, Nature, Pining, Rock Climbing, Self-Doubt, Sports, Texas, and a badass warcry to conquer it, and a vague whiff of Peter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-09-01 11:44:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20257567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chromat1cs/pseuds/Chromat1cs
Summary: It’s been a long while since Remus even blinked at the idea of climbing outdoors, but with a fresh start and some new days sure to unfold before him he can afford to take some leaps of faith. Can't he?





	Hangdog

**Author's Note:**

> [passes you a plate of crumbs] Here, this was supposed to be a drabble and then suddenly it was nearly 5,000 words and full of my own little indulgent thoughts that I've had about various pretty people at the crag. Climb on, leave no trace, love your belayer, etc. etc. etc. Enjoy me crossing the thing that takes up at least 30% of my life now with my favorite boys <3
> 
> Glossary at the end for all the jargon-y jargon if you're interested! Thanks for stopping by ^^

The wall looks exactly as Remus remembers.

It’s been nearly six long and very frustrating years away from Texas, his hometown, the Greenbelt, the walls—particularly this wall, the Rubber Wall, Remus’ favorite climbing spot and one of the most beautiful stretches of nature he’s ever seen. It’s even better, this homecoming of sorts, to be along with Lily and James for his first foray back into outdoor climbs.

Lily has been coming to the gym with Remus for weeks since he arrived and needed something to do besides unpack, excited to get him back on lead and ready to hit outdoors again. It was so much like their days back in college—Lily ripping Remus away from his isolated tendencies to vent all their exhaustion or frustration onto the wall, build up some muscle, forget to worry about anything outside their own head for the length of a good hard climb—save for the fact the gym was newly refurbished and Lily was now the proud owner of one of those sporty silicon engagement rings.

_ Isn’t it neat? _ Lily had told him with her 200-watt former-Miss-Bluebonnet smile, turning her hand flat to examine its simple bright blue, _ I can rough it up without worrying about the real ring. _

The ‘real ring,’ Remus came to find at the dinner to which Lily and James insisted on treating him after he officially threw out his last moving box, was a hulk of a thing made of white gold and emeralds. James had blushed very demurely when Remus nearly fumbled his wine and said something ungainly about programmer salaries when he noticed it.

“Does it still look as big as you remember, or has it shrunk a little?”

Remus looks over his shoulder as he sets his rope bag down and takes a sip from his coffee thermos—it’s almost sinfully early, and he needs it. “Nah, still plenty big.”

“Good,” Lily says with a jackrabbit grin, “‘cause you’re gonna climb it.”

They set to their gear with the gentle and calming clinkering shift so unique to climbing, the prattle of quickdraws knocking against one another and the jangle of zippers, buckles, and fastens. James begins stacking his and Lily’s rope as Lily clips her chalk bag around her waist, and Remus is about to ask if he can borrow a couple quickdraws from James’ veritable trove of them when he finds himself two or three short for the route in front of him after checking the guidebook when the brush begins to crash and Remus hears it: a clear, jaunty whistle on a tune he hasn’t thought of in ages;

_Heart and soul, I fell in love with you_  
_ Heart and soul, as any fool would do,_  
_ Madly, because you held me tight  
And stole a kiss in the night…_

The whistle cuts off with an aimless little warble, the voice behind it morphing slowly into a broad and dramatic sigh. “Gooooood morning, motherfuckers!”

James drops his head with a helpless laugh. “Good morning yourself, Sirius, we have fuckin’ company.”

Remus chooses the wrong moment to look up. It’s the wrong moment, as it’s the exact moment Sirius looks over at him with the unbridled glee of one who has equated the word _ company _ with _ all-you-can-eat buffet of doughnuts. _

And damn it to hell, he’s gorgeous.

Sirius is all muscle, a dedicated climber’s knotted and sinewy limbs, shoulders built like eaves and forearms like braided steel, legs filled with the graceful power of a crouched puma even standing still like that. The cargo shorts don’t phase Remus—hell, he’s wearing a pair of his own—and the sleeveless black shirt faded out with the vague ghost of an old logo hints painfully at a torso Remus knows is sculpted like marble, he _ knows it. _

Fuck, he’s staring.

“Well, good morning!” Sirius crows, loping up the curve of the trail to sling his pack down and hold out a strong, calloused hand to Remus. “Apologies for including you with the motherfuckers, seeing as we haven’t even met before. I’m Sirius.”

“No worries, I’ve been known to have my moments,” Remus says a bit breathlessly as he does his best to wrestle an even smile onto his face and take the handshake. Sirius’ hand is surprisingly soft, but the callouses are definitely there. Remus tries very hard not to let his imagination run too wild with that one. “I’m Remus.”

“We figured you’d need a belay partner since Pete moved,” Lily calls over, tightening the last of her harness stays and beginning to tie into the end of her and James’ rope. “Remus went to UT, so he got to know these walls before he left.”

“Just visiting, or here to stay?” Sirius takes his hand back with another smile, this one inquisitve, as a little scrape of resistance taps at the back of Remus’ head. He makes a deep-seated effort to ignore it.

“To stay, I just moved back a few weeks ago.”

“Ah, where from?”

Remus snorts to himself preemptively, the giddy thrill of having escaped the northeast still fresh between his lungs. “New York City.”

Sirius pulls a face, as though Remus had just said he crawled up from the primordial wastes. “Jesus. Welcome home.”

The jagged skip of laughter on Remus’ tongue is unexpected yet wholly sweet. “Thanks,” he offers, setting to stack his rope as he notices James and Lily finish their checks and Lily start up the wall. “How about you, did you also go to UT?”

_ I’d remember you if you had, _ he tells himself with secretive tenderness, glancing sideways at the way Sirius’ body curves easily sideways to retrieve his harness and shoes from his pack. Remus and Lily had met halfway through sophomore year and kept close friends all through the rest of their undergrad, all through Remus’ multiple crises of rouletting his major until landing on anthropology, all through Lily’s frustrations with biochemistry offset handily by her epiphany at the end of junior year that James Potter in sports medicine was pretty great actually, wasn’t he? Remus was always vaguely aware of Sirius Black, the wraith of a good time hanging off of James’ stories told drunkenly over nightcaps at Spider House— _ Went to this crazy show with Sirius the other night, _ or _ Sirius showed me a new place, have you met Sirius? You should meet Sirius. _

Remus never met Sirius, and then he took a job with the consulting agency in Manhattan to get away from the postgraduate malaise he felt setting in like a bad muscle ache. But now, Remus was meeting Sirius.

All in all, he thinks to himself as he watches Sirius tighten the main buckle of his harness around his blade-edge waist, he seems to live up to the stories already.

“Nah, no college for this one.” Sirius shakes his hair out of his face before raking it up into a haphazard half-bun that Remus finds entirely too endearing. “I do cars.”

“Oh, like designing them?”

Sirius mocks a wince, which makes Remus note the way a single dimple pulls at his cheek at the same time his stomach twists with embarrassment at the apprehension. “Take a couple steps back outta the boardrooms, chief.” As if the flat and even silver-wide of a scar he presents then on his left elbow tells all, Sirius grins. “I’m a mechanic.”

“That’s cool,” Remus says plainly, wishing he had something better to fill the space with but truly, really, he thinks it’s cool. Cars are a complete mystery to him—gas, pedals, gears, wheel. All he needs to know. He tells as much to Sirius, which makes him grin again.

They finish setting up and watching Lily send her route with ease—”It’s just my warm up, calm down!” she calls down to Sirius’ whoop of victory as James begins to lower her. Remus finds himself watching the colors of the pale still-rising sun throwing themselves off of Sirius’ hair when Sirius turns to him again.

“You wanna climb first?”

Remus blinks, yanked from his own unfounded daydreaming, and automatically reaches for his grigri. “Ah, you can go first. Set the toprope, and all that.”

“What, you’re not gonna lead it? Come _ on.” _ Sirius draws out the _ n _ like some sort of song, and Remus finds he enjoys it more than a little.

“Maybe after I watch you do it first.”

“Ha! You’ll steal my beta, I see your game!”

A bird erupts from a tree above them, likely startled by Sirius’ bark of a shout. All things considered, Remus should find him obnoxious. As it stands, he can only laugh at the genuine abandon rolling off of the man like a fine mist so welcome in the rising heat.

“Alright,” Remus says once Sirius is tied in, gesturing to Sirius’ harness knot, “you look good.”

Sirius raises his eyebrows, and Remus suddenly knows he’s made a grave error. “Why thank you.”

“It—your knot, I mean, the rope. It’s dressed, you’re good to climb,” Remus sputters. Sirius snickers and puts a hand on Remus’ shoulder.

“I’m just teasing.” He nods down at Remus’ grigri, snapped into place with the brake rope draped waiting across one open palm. Remus patently ignores the pleasant and searing warmth of Sirius’ touch through his shirt. “You look good, too.”

Remus very intently does not miss the wink Sirius tosses to him before he turns to the wall, quickdraws rattling pleasantly on his gear loops, thankfully letting Remus blush in peace. _ I need more fucking coffee. _

“Alrighty,” Sirius sighs, chalking his hands with tidy little claps and craning his neck up at the wall he’s likely climbed more times than worth counting if the way he’s approaching it like an old friend is any valid tell. “Climbing.”

“Climb on,” Remus replies, holding his hands out to spot Sirius’ shoulders as he legs up onto the first hold and begins to climb.

It’s a bit of a feat to remember not to just lose himself in watching Sirius climb. Remus has to actively remind himself to pay attention to the rope slack, but it proves to be a challenge with Sirius’ technique so blatantly fantastic along the wall. He moves like his sole purpose is to climb, all soft feet and purposeful arms. He picks each toehold with expertise, sets his hands with the rote memory Remus has always dreamed of having on the wall, clips into each bolt with the no-nonsense efficiency reserved only for the climbers who have no fear of the wall at all—or the ground, for that matter. The only sign of exertion is the thin sheen of sweat Remus sees building on his face when Sirius looks down to double-check his toeholds and atop his shoulders in the intensifying sun, and it’s a fall toward the top of the wall that nearly takes Remus unawares because of it.

Sirius hardly announces the fall at all, only able to let out a quick shout of “Gah, _ fuck!” _ before suddenly Sirius has peeled right off the rock and the rope is pulling taut in Remus’ hands. Remus tightens his fist on the brake rope and holds it fast as he gives a little jump, instinct kicking in, and lets himself swing forward to brace on the base of the wall as Sirius comes to a catch twenty feet above him.

“You good?” Remus calls up, lowering himself back down to two feet with careful little shifts.

“Yeah, tried a new move that wasn’t as solid as I’d hoped. But hey, nice fuckin’ catch!”

Remus looks up to see Sirius giving him a thumbs up, and Remus smirks. “Better than Pete?”

A derisive snort comes from Sirius, and Remus hears James laugh in harmony from two routes over and just a few more feet up. “Pete caught falls like he caught colds,” James says. Sirius barks another one of those rasping laughs, and Remus furrows his eyebrows.

“How’s that?”

“Hard and badly.”

Hearing Lily mutter something and the telltale sound of her swatting harmlessly at his shoulder makes Remus chuckle to himself as he helps Sirius reset closer to his last bolt. He’s got one more to go before the anchors and he’s well past the crux of the route, so Remus’ job is an easy one for the rest of the route. He gives his own little cheer when Sirius sends, anchors clipped and slack taken out, with a mocking salute to the top of the wall in an exaggerated flex of his arm muscles. _ Shit, _ he’s built. 

“Well done!” Remus flashes his best smile when Sirius is back on the ground, panting lightly and traced with sweat even though he just made the route look like cake even as he cleaned his bolts on the way down. He looks somewhat surprised to see Remus’ expression for a tick of a moment, but he gives his own toothy grin in response before beginning to pluck at his rope knot with chalky, dirt-traced fingers. 

“Thank-you thank-you, well done again on belay.” Sirius’ voice is brisk with adrenaline and the bright pull of exertive glee, and Remus is suddenly a hell of a lot more excited to get back on the wall. As if reading his mind, Sirius holds out the untied harness end to Remus between his thumb and forefinger with a wicked grin. “Now are you gonna top it, or lead it?”

For some reason, inhibition swallows Remus whole as he nods. “I’m gonna lead it.”

“Fuck yeah!” Sirius claps him on the back and clips his draws to Remus’ gear loop with easy flicks of his wrist while Remus pretends not to be excited by Sirius’ hands so near his waist—he’s known this man for how long, less than hour? Really?

Well, let it never be said Remus is particularly savvy at guarding his heart. 

Without warning, Sirius steps back and grabs that faded, near-grey shirt of his by the back of its collar. “Just give me two seconds,” he says as, to Remus’ combined delight and terror, he tugs the shirt of with one go—wresting it down the length of his arms, his harness now gripped sweetly around the naked flat of his waist, that long crow’s hair mussed over his face; he’s got tattoos tracing his chest like some sort of colorful saga, and Remus can’t pull his eyes away even when Sirius sniffs a little laugh at him once he pulls his hair back again.

“Those are neat,” Remus says, gesturing at the dancing shapes and colors arrayed along Sirius’ tawny skin before he doubles down on tying himself into the rope end he’s been holding dumb as a virginal teenager to watch Sirius strip. _ Neat? Who the fuck says NEAT anymore? _

The small smile he gets in return is, somehow, more feral than all Sirius’ previous smiles directed at him—Remus enjoys this, secretly, very much. “Thanks. You got any?”

“Oh, no, well, not like that. I have one. Sort of.” Sirius watches him expectantly as Remus finishes his knot, raising an eyebrow when Remus looks up at him. “What?”

“Basic etiquette, Remus, come on. Where, what, I need details here!”

Hearing his name in Sirius’ mouth does a scramble of good things to Remus’ guts, but nobody has to know that. He flushes pink for no reason besides talking about hidden extremities with a very attractive man. “I have a crescent moon, stick-and-poke, on one hip.”

Sirius whistles low, the kind of whistle that should be reserved for looking at very tall mountains in Remus’ opinion. “Do it yourself?”

“Yep,” Remus says shortly, nodding to himself as he watches Sirius rig up his own ATC. “For what it’s worth, getting stoned by yourself in your shitty basement apartment in Queens is a less than advisable task.”

Sirius laughs again, shaking his head to himself, and something about the way he looks up at Remus through his lashes while still bent over his harness is terribly, unexpectedly sexy. “I like you,” he murmurs, as though it’s some kind of secret he’s only just discovering as he turns the words over behind his teeth. Remus feels himself blush again, but nonetheless he manages to push his own little smile onto his lips. 

Set at the foot of the same route, replenished with a few sips of water and coffee for the both of them, Remus squints up at the top of the wall and unconsciously runs his fingers along the quickdraws along his harness as if counting them again. “It’s pretty smooth sailing at the start,” Sirius says, brake rope slung over his forearm as he shrugs, “but it gets hairy when you reach the dihedral up there. The chalky little ledges where everyone else has grabbed? Lies. Look for the little pockets in the rock instead.”

Remus glances over his shoulder at Sirius and wipes chalk along his fingertips. “What grade is this?”

“Not gonna tell you ‘til you send it,” Sirius says with an easy grin. Remus rolls his eyes. 

“Fine. Just be prepared to catch me, alright? Been a long time since I climbed outside.”

“I gotchya, Remus.”

There’s something easy about the way Sirius says that, something so acutely comforting, that Remus has to take a moment a chew on his lip as he faces the rock for a moment before he nods once himself. “Okay, climbing.”

Sirius plants his feet and flattens his hands up to spot him. “Climb on!” he announces, the same way an umpire might say _ Play ball! _

The beginning is a little shaky, but Remus gets his first two clips in without any big stumbles. He’s feeling sweaty and a little pumped by halfway up the wall, and he takes his time hangdogging and shaking his arms out while Lily and James shout encouragement from the ground. His nose is likely streaked with chalk, he’s going to have a handsome bruise on his right shin tomorrow, and he can hear his own breathing in his ears like a rhythmic record hiss. 

It’s fucking fantastic. 

But, as always, the old companion of looming terror begins to dip into his focus just before the second-to-last bolt. _ You’re going to fall, _ it tells him, seeping into his awareness like smoke, a monotone voice like his least-favorite professor so many years ago; _ you’re going to fall and all your bolts will rip out of the rock. _

“You’re good,” Remus murmurs to himself, leaning into his left arm and latching, with a bit a tremble, his fingers into the good edge if a crack raking up above him. “You got this. Breathe.”

He glances out over the billowing treetop green, the thread of the river inlet twisting between them, the hawk wheeling circles in the cloudless blue of the sky. Remus takes one breath in, one breath out. 

_ “You got this!” _ Sirius calls from below him. Remus clenches his teeth. He does. He _ does _ got this. 

He gets two more moves up, just before clipping his last bolt, when his legs lock up. 

Remus’ knees tremble as he wills his ankles to release, “Come _ on,” _ he grits out to himself, exhausted and sweating in this sun-baked final stretch of the route. He leans into his left foot and flags his right leg out in a graceless flail, unpretty but it works. He jams his draw into the bolt— _ “Clipping!” _ he shouts, short-roping himself as he yanks too soon for the illusion of safety this far up on the rock. His breath is raw as he pulls the mis-timed slack up to clip, holding it between his teeth before reaching out and flicking it through the carabiner gate. “Clipped! Take!”

The rope pulls taut and Remus lets go, sits back into his harness, and lets out a frustrated sigh of a shout to himself. _ Fuck. _ He should have known the old apprehensions would come up again. 

“You’re doing great!”

Remus looks down at Sirius and gives him a boneless thumbs-up. “Thanks,” he shouts down weakly. 

“If you’re getting in your own head,” Sirius calls up, one eye shut against the sun, “just, ya know, get yourself outta there.”

Remus huffs a humorless laugh. “Easier said than done.”

“Oh, I know, but you can do it.”

Remus turns back to his wall, frowning up at the anchors waiting at the top of the rock, and nods to himself. He re-chalks his hands and takes a slow, even breath. _ “Climbing.” _

He picks his way up the rock carefully, finding the best holds he can grab at, and finally lands on a ledge where he can stand on the balls of both feet. Remus tries to take some calming breaths, _ in-two-three-four, out-two-three-four, _but the combination of his heart pounding for exertion and his arms shaking with pump combine to make it near impossible to quiet the noise in his head. 

“It’s right there,” Remus hisses to himself, cheek nearly pressed against the rock as he vises himself as flat as possible with one hand locked around the hold beside his shoulder, “it’s right fucking there, you can fucking finish it.”

_ No, you fucking can’t, _ his inner critic croons back at him, _ you’re going to fall. _

“Come on,” Remus huffs, tightening his right hand and kicking his right foot up to find the hold he can see there. “Come on.”

_ Fall. _ It seems to come from his heartbeat now, his entire body doubting him from almost fifty feet off the ground. _ Fall, fall, you’re going to fall. _

“Come on—!” Remus feels his throat tightening with furious emotion, his eyes welling up unbidden as he bunches his muscles and bursts, reaching up, his hand scraping and almost missing it—he shouts, a desperate yell, but _ there! _ Remus finds the hold and clings, and it steadies him. His left arm burns but he has it, he’s solid. Now he just has to get his feet a bit higher so he can clip in his anchors. 

_ Fall. Fall. Fall. Fall. _

Remus squeezes his eyes shut, gasping for breath, and tries to tune his mind like a radio dial. Something besides the doubt, besides the fear—

_ Fall. Fall. Fall. Fall. Fall. _

A half-formed sob jumps from Remus’ chest, and he tosses his head. No, he is _ not _ going to fucking fall, he just needs some goddamn peace and—

_ Fall. Fall. Fall. FALL. FALL. FALL. FA— _

With a burst of determination that comes from some untapped depth in him, Remus opens his mouth to let out a bellow that feels like it might shake the rock out from under him. He heaves himself upward, reaching up past the anchors, planting his left foot with a hard kick; he shouts again, a roar of a thing, and only quiets when he knows he’s solid. He takes a moment to catch his breath in the secure stance he finds there, right arm solid and feet planted to help keep his hips in close. Remus swallows, his throat suddenly dry and raw, and blinks away the surprising scrim of tears in his eyes. He takes up his rope and wets his lips with a quick tongue. “Anchors!”

The rope moves like butter through the anchor locks, his wrist shaking with exertion, and Remus can’t remember calling to be lowered but finds himself leaning back into smooth descent several seconds after. His head is spinning but his thoughts feel placid, like a sudden entrance into the eye of a storm—smooth water, a gentle breeze, perhaps even some birdsong. As he cleans his draws on the way down, Remus finds himself running an aimless little tune through his head in that new silence;

_Heart and soul, I begged to be adored,_  
_ Lost control, and tumbled overboard, gladly!_  
_ That magic night we kissed,  
There in the moon mist..._

“Holy fuck, remind me never to make you mad! Talk about a warcry!”

Remus leans back against the rock when he’s standing again, catching his breath as Sirius lets extra slack out from his ATC and holds Remus’ water bottle out to him without being asked. Remus tosses an exhausted chuckle at him in thanks, drinking deep. 

“That was fuckin’ awesome,” Sirius says almost reverantly. When Remus meets his eyes, there’s something gently awestruck about them. Remus has never, as far as he can recall, inspired that feeling in anyone. It feels good. 

“Thanks, and thanks for belay.” Remus pauses to heave more breath before he sets to prying at his knot. “Now will you tell me grade, or is that still your little secret?”

“5.11.”

Remus almost chokes on his water. The hardest he’s ever lead at the gym are some tougher 5.10’s. “Are you kidding?!”

“Nope. Told you you could do it.” Sirius smiles at him as though he can’t imagine anything sweeter, and somehow Remus believes that coming from him. 

It seems, as Remus shares another few beats of impressed and comfortable quiet with Sirius, as though it’s going to be a particularly productive day at the crag after all.

—

_ Glossary of Climbing Terms _

_**Anchor** — an arrangement of one or (usually) more pieces of gear set up to support the weight of a belay or top rope._

_**ATC** — a tubular belay device, without assisted braking but still helping to increase friction on the rope for catching falls._

_**Belay** — to protect a roped climber from falling by passing the rope through, or around, any type of friction enhancing belay device. _

_**Beta** — advice on how to successfully complete (or protect) a particular climbing route, boulder problem, or crux sequence. Some climbers believe that beta taints an ascent._

_**Bolt** — a point of protection permanently installed in a hole drilled into the rock, to which a metal hanger is attached, having a hole for a carabiner or ring._

_**Chalk** — literal powdered chalk, used to coat hands to aid grip during a climb._

_ **Clean** — to remove equipment from a route, i.e. quickdraws on a lead climb. _

_ **Crag ** — a small area with climbing routes, often just a small cliff face or a few boulders. _

_**Crux** — the most difficult portion of a climb._

_**Dihedral** — an inside corner of rock, with more than a 90-degree angle between the faces._

_**Dressed** — descriptor for a knot that is secure, clean, and safe for an ascent._

_ **Flagging** — climbing technique where a leg is held in a position to maintain balance, rather than to support weight. _

_ **Grade** \-- i ntended as an objective measure of the technical difficulty of a particular climb, commonly measured with the Yosemite Decimal System (difficulty goes from low to high, i.e. an easier climb is a 5.7, while the hardest route in the world right now is a 5.15d). _

_ **Grigri ** — a belay device designed to increase the ease with which falls can be arrested, especially for heavier climbers or longer falls, because it is assisted-braking under load. _

_**Hangdog** — while lead climbing or on top rope, to hang on the rope or a piece of protection for a rest._

_**Harness** — a sewn nylon webbing device worn around the waist and thighs that is designed to allow a person to safely hang suspended in the air. Usually outfitted with gear loops, reinforced material on which a climber clips or ties gear like quickdraws necessary for use en route._

_**Lead climbing** — a form of climbing in which the climber clips the belay rope into quickdraws or similar equipment attached to the wall by means of anchors._

_**Pump** — the feeling that comes from such an accumulation of metabolic waste products in the forearm that forming even a basic grip becomes impossible. A climber who is pumped will find it difficult to hold on, and may struggle to lift or clip a rope._

_ **Send** — to cleanly complete a route. _

_**Short-rope** — in lead climbing, to pull on the rope for a clip before the belayer has given enough slack for clipping, resulting in a catch on the rope that makes it impossible to pull more slack for a moment. _

_**Spotting** — a method of protection commonly used during bouldering or before a lead climber has placed a piece of protection. The spotter stands beneath the climber, ready to absorb the energy of a fall and direct them away from any hazards._

_ **Take ** — c alled by a climber when requesting that the belayer remove all slack. _

_**Top-rope** — a form of climbing in which the climber is belayed from a fixed anchor point above the route, instead of clipping in as they move up the wall. This is only available as an option in a climbing gym, or after setting a route outdoors either via footpath access or after a climber has set the anchors on lead._

_ **Quickdraw** — a type of carabiner used to attach a freely running rope to bolts and/or anchors. _

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to find me on [tumblr](https://chromat1cs.tumblr.com/) and say hi :>


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